Morning all, we have made it to Friday. And past the middle of the month. Which seems a bit strange. But here we are. Shall wee see what the last prompt of the week offers? Timers at the ready and lets find out.
I suddenly feel a type of Miss Marple coming on. I don’t know what the mystery is, but it could be fun. I don’t know if I have ever written a Miss Marple sort of character.
Friday, August 16th: She stretched her sore muscles.
She stretched her sore muscles. She felt as though she had been run over by a truck instead of unloading one. As she stretched, she tried to determine if she felt this way after all of her other moves or if she had now reached an age where the act of unloading a moving van caught up with her.
‘It’s not as though I even moved the heavy stuff,’ she thought.
To be fair, there wasn’t much heavy stuff. She sold most of it when she knew the house was sold, not wanting to take it with her. She visited too many older relatives when she was younger who decided that everything had to be kept even though they were moving to smaller accommodations. She remembered visiting them in their retirement condos and apartments and thinking they were packed in the place rather than living there. They looked more like well arranged storage units than places for people to live.
So when she decided that it was time to let the house go and downsize to something smaller, she was ruthless in her purging. Anything that did not hold a special place in her heart went. It was interesting to be so mercenary in downsizing her possessions. Anything that she knew had actual monetary value she had the son of a friend sell on one of those on-line auction sites. Even giving him a percentage of the profits netted her more than she was expecting. Many of the heavier furniture pieces were actually antiques and worth a pretty penny. He helped her deal with the antiques dealers.
Many of them saw her and suddenly downplayed their value hoping to get more for less. He was ruthless in making certain she got fair value. She tried offering him a commission for his assistance there as well but he refused. Several of the dealers they dealt with made him angry with their rapacious behavior and she wondered if, once she was gone, he would plan something to deal with them. While she didn’t expect anything illegal, she did suspect he would be sending out their names to his various contacts. She wished him well and was glad that she was one older lady they wouldn’t be taking advantage of.
After that, there was the garage sale and for that she rummaged down do the depths of the basement and into the far rafters of the attic. Even the sheds behind the house were emptied out. The house was clean, and empty of even dust motes by the time she turned the keys over to the new owners. The fact that they were already planning their renovations didn’t bother her. She wished them well with whatever they wanted to do with it.
In the end the house held far more bad memories than good and she felt lighter for having left it behind. Taking stock of her new place, she had to buy some new furniture, lighter weight and more modern. It was assembled and put into place, a feat she managed mostly by herself. The small cottage was in a sea of other cottages that formed a part of a retirement community. The grounds were kept up by the landscape company. There were facilities she could use should she wish, a gym, a pool, tennis courts even. This was a place for older people who no longer wanted the upkeep of a house on their own but who couldn’t hire a full time staff. It was not a care residence. The fact that those were located on the other side of the complex was a practical idea but not one she wanted to dwell on.
She stretched and surveyed her new home. Ass she did, she caught movement outside the double glass sliding doors leading into her small patio area. The door was cracked open to let air in and the scent of the cardboard boxes out. Through the door she could clearly see and year a couple in their thirties having a heated argument. Not wanting to be caught looking, she turned and began unpacking a box. She couldn’t help but overhear their words and she found herself intrigued.
Ten til Midnight 